Constance and Moira: A History Lesson
by Katja93
Summary: An alternative story between Constance and Moira alongside the original plot. Explores their history and the interactions we see in the show. Dark, light and smutty in places. Hope you enjoy. (The timeline runs as closely as I could make it to the show. If there are any errors, I apologise.)
1. One Hell of a Goddamn Grudge

One Hell of a Goddamn Grudge

'I'm off,' Ben announced, as he entered the kitchen, interrupting Constance and Vivien's heart to heart. 'What are we gonna do about Addie, Constance?' he sighed.

'Oh, well, well…' she trailed, fixing her hair.

'Ah, cupcakes.' Ben reached for the sweet, before the plate was yanked from his grasp.

'Not for you,' Constance uttered, sternly. Ben rolled his eyes at Vivien. 'Moira, darling,' the blonde purred, smiling at the maid's entrance, a note of contempt in her voice. 'Put these away somewhere until little Violet can have them,' she trilled, handing over the cupcakes. 'The Harmons, here, are offending my largesse. And don't forget the crumbs on the table,' she pointed, glancing up at maid's quiet, but stiff disposition. 'Moira and I go way back,' Constance explained, noting Vivien's curious expression. 'Isn't that right?' she glared, smirking at Moira's stoic, icy stare. 'Why, I even employed her for a time. I hope her dusting has improved,' she muttered, standing from the kitchen island and heading towards the door.

'Your sense of humour was, and continues to be, a delight,' Moira hissed, meeting the blonde's eyes. Constance held her gaze for a second before turning to the Harmons.

'Is there anything more wonderful than the promise of a new child? Or more heart-breaking when that promise is broken?' Ben swallowed, looking at the floor as Constance opened the door, taking only one step out of it before turning back. 'Moira, a word.' She nodded her head towards the garden and left before hearing an answer.

Moira sighed quietly to herself. 'Excuse me,' she muttered, slipping past Vivien to follow the trail of perfumed scent the blonde had left. 'I'll only be a moment.'

'Of course,' Vivien nodded, waiting silently until the door closed behind her before turning to her husband and smiling.

'Is everybody crazy?' he laughed, before kissing his wife goodbye.

Outside Moira smoothed her hands along her apron as she approached Constance, who stood with her weight on one hip as she smoked. 'What do you want, Constance?' she growled, clasping her hands in front of her. Constance smirked, taking a step towards her.

'Where the hell have you been?' she hissed, quietly, into her face.

'Avoiding you. That's the great thing about being dead, Constance. I don't have to put up with you,' Moira smirked.

'Well, you can stop skulking about in the shadows now. You can't hide from me forever.'

'Oh, you'd be surprised,' Moira warned, her grey eye gleaming in the sunlight. Constance scoffed, taking another drag of her cigarette.

'Who are you kidding? Death is miserable enough without torturing yourself just to punish me.'

'It was worth it,' the maid spat through stiffened lips. 'It was worth all of it just to know you were suffering some.' Constance swallowed and fiddled with her earring.

'You couldn't make me suffer, Moira. Not after what I've endured. I don't care about you enough to allow you any power over me,' Constance uttered, a nasty bite lingering in her tone.

Moira sniggered, 'And yet every time I heard you stomping about that big, empty house, screaming my name, begging for me to show myself, I felt a twinge of happiness in my stomach,' she teased, cuttingly.

'That wasn't happiness, you stupid bitch. It was guilt.'

'Then why did it make me smile?' she whispered, provocatively, narrowing her eyes.

'Because you're a twisted old hag. And you hold one hell of a goddamn grudge,' Constance sighed, inhaling once more on the Pall Mall between her fingers. The two held their glares for a moment, in silence, before Constance exhaled, dropping her shoulders, and her cigarette, and stepping towards the maid. 'Come on, Moira, let it go.' She stroked a finger along the redhead's chin, her voice now melting and melodious. Moira scowled pulling away her face. 'I missed you,' she sung quietly, reaching again for Moira's touch.

'I know, I can feel your desperation from here. It's most unattractive.'

'Ugh,' the blonde groaned through turned lips, pulling her hand away. 'You're disgusting,' she seethed, turning from the maid who stood strongly, her eyes fixed on curvaceous hips as they sashayed away from her. She waited until Constance was no longer in sight and then caught a whimper in her throat as she breathed through tears that were fighting to get out. She faintly shook her head, smoothed her apron and returned to the house.


	2. Weeds of Society

Weeds of Society

 **1983**

'Please, I really need this job,' Moira begged, keeping her distance from the drunk man swaying in front of her.

'You liked it the last time,' he smirked, edging towards her.

'That was a mistake. I was just lonely.'

'You want a Camaro? Huh? We got a new shipment in yesterday.'

'No, I- Ah!' His hands took hold of her young skin and he threw her on the bed. 'No, please,' she wailed as he laid on top of her, spreading her legs wide enough for his waist to fit between. His cigarette stained hand covered her mouth as she sobbed and tried to push him away.

'Shh,' he cooed, pulling down his trousers and kissing her neck. The startling sound of mirror smashing stopped him in his tracks, and they both gasped, pulling away. Moira covered herself as she faced the agonizing gaze of the lady of the house, who was pointing a handgun in their direction. An elegant finger pulled the trigger and Moira's blood spurted across the headboard of the bed. Her body melted onto to the floor with a quiet thud.

'I've loved you since I was 16.' Constance's words mixed rage and disgust with the pain that bubbled inside her.

'Sweetheart please. This, this… this didn't mean anything,' Hugo begged, trying to calm his wife. She swallowed, keeping the gun steady. Fury blew over her.

'You've broken my heart for the last time,' she snarled, firing 3 shots, into his chest. Constance looked over his limp body as she stumbled to the bed. Her eyes began to glass over as she calmly removed her earrings, before bellowing her pain in great, stricken sobs. She lay a hand on her husband's cooling body, gasping in agony.

'You could have made it in the movies, after all,' a dry voice taunted from behind her. Constance turned, blinking away her tears, trying to clear her vision. 'Great act, truly.' The maid sauntered towards the widow, deciding instead to sit at the vanity table. Constance's brow furrowed, confused. She shook her head, breathing and wiped her eyes. 'But everyone knows you didn't really love him.'

'W-what?' Constance managed, squinting at the ghost who was fixing her hair in the mirror. Moira turned on the stool and Constance quickly reached for the gun, holding it firmly at the undead beauty. 'What are you?' she panted.

'Your reasoning, by the looks of things.' She glanced over the body she once inhabited, now laying limp and bloody on the floor. 'A way to ease that guilty conscience of yours.' Moira stared, unafraid or fazed, down the barrel of the gun. 'Even someone as hollow as you needed a justification for getting rid of that fetid lump of meat. And I respect that,' she spoke softly, her tone almost bored and disinterested.

'I killed you,' Constance whispered, horrified at the realisation. She continued blinking, trying, in vain, to make the apparition disappear. But the maid only smirked at her.

'Yeah, now that's the part I'm having trouble with,' Moira sighed. 'Why did you do that?' She shuffled the vanity stool closer to both the edge of the bed and the gun that threatened her.

'You were screwing my husband,' Constance roared, narrowing her tearing eyes with anger.

'No,' Moira corrected. 'I _screwed_ your husband. Once.'

'You do it once, you'll do it again and again. Filth like you are the weeds of society. Nothing'll stop you from getting your rocks off,' Constance hissed, her face contorting into disgust at the young maid who perched daintily on the edge of the stool.

'So you killed me?'

'You're damn right I did,' Constance spat with conviction. The air between the women stifled as Moira stood and glared down at her murderer.

'You'd better watch yourself, Constance. And hope that ghosts can't fire guns.' Moira languidly sauntered out of the bedroom, leaving Constance, panting with reddened eyes, on the bed, clutching the handgun.


	3. Enjoy Your Afterlife

Enjoy Your Afterlife

'Put those earrings back.' The maid stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching as Constance jumped and slammed the lid of Vivien's jewellery box. She turned, her face instantly relaxing when she spied Moira. She brought a hand to her chest.

'Jesus H Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack,' she breathed.

'Those belong to Madam. This is her house, not yours.'

She sighed, 'Why is it that is it always the old whore who acts the part of a moralistic prude?' Constance walked slowly towards the redhead. 'I'd be nervous if I were you two. When things go missing, they always blame the new maid.' She fiddled with the diamond earrings carefully between her fingers as she spoke, but didn't break eye contact.

'Is that your plan? To get me fired?' Moira scoffed.

'Chase you back into hiding,' she leered over the maid, widening her eyes, then smiled, sinisterly. 'At least that way you can have your wish,' she called back over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway.

'And what wish is that?' Moira called back to her.

'You can go back to creeping around in the darkness, having no one to talk to but the murderers and low-lives you reside with. And your own, corrupt soul. Isn't that what you want? To avoid me? To _punish_ me for hurting you so?' She walked back towards the bedroom, eyes intensely burning. 'Well, Moira, consider me punished,' she whispered, thickly. 'I'm going to go back to my home now, after a nice, long walk in the afternoon sun. And then I think I'll make love to my much, _much_ younger lover, before sparing your damned spirit a thought.' She smirked, crookedly, smouldering in the sharp pain the maid tried to hide from her. 'I've got to say, Moira, of the two of us, I think your punishment is much worse than the one you're giving me. Enjoy your afterlife,' she said, bitterly, as she turned to leave the redhead alone in the hall.


	4. Scarlet Fury

Scarlet Fury

 **1993**

'I've seen you, you know,' Moira sneered, judgingly at the blonde, reclining on a chez longue.

'What? Do you watch from the shadows like a peeping tom?' Constance quipped, lighting up a cigarette and looking over her shoulder at the maid who stood glaring at her.

'I like Madam very much. And the children… It's not right what you're doing,' the ghost murmured as she polished a mahogany cabinet.

'I know,' Constance nodded. 'I deserve to be shot in the eye.' She scowled at the redhead who didn't turn back to look at her. 'Get off your high horse, Moira,' she sighed.

'What are you even doing back here?' The maid dropped her duster and turned, hand on hip. 'Didn't I warn you about coming back here?'

'I don't take your threats very seriously, Moira. All I have to do is walk out the goddamned door and I'm safe.'

'From me, maybe,' the maid muttered.

'The girls are asleep,' Larry announced as he re-entered the room, rubbing his hands together. He stopped in his tracks. 'Oh, Moira, I didn't know you were still here.' Constance rolled her eyes.

'Don't worry Lawrence, she's not going to say anything. Are you, Moira?' she grazed, threateningly.

'Say anything about what?' Larry said nervously, kneeling in front of the fire and reaching for the poker. 'There's nothing Lorraine can't know about; having a neighbour over for supper while she's out of town… It's all completely legal. Normal.' He cleared his throat and turned back around to meet Constance's judging eyes.

'For Christ's sake, Larry, it's fine.'

'She's right. I'm not going to say anything,' the young maid sung with a slow, hypnotic tone laced in her voice. 'I promise. All you have to do,' she sauntered slowly over to the nervous man, 'is seal it,' she met his face, watching his darting eyes shiver uncomfortably. 'With a kiss,' she whispered, glancing over to Constance out the corner of her eye. Larry shifted on his feet, giggling nervously. Constance scoffed, shaking her head.

'Some people never change,' she chimed, taking another drag of her cigarette. Moira put a hand on Larry's chest, teasing him with her lips like a siren's song.

'Come on, Larry, you want to, don't you? You want to feel my young, firm tits against your chest?' He pushed his glasses up his nose and put his hands in his pockets.

'I, I don't think that's a very good idea, Moira,' he heaved a laugh of discomfort and glanced down at the blonde, strewn along his furniture.

'I can't swear not to tell, if you don't seal the deal,' she crooned, swaying before the glowing fire.

'Christ woman, can't you keep your clothes on for five goddamned minutes?' Constance snapped. The maid slowly shook her head as she brought a hand up to her chest, gently stroking the cleavage that blossomed from the low buttoned shirt.

''Fraid not,' she whispered. 'But if I have to take this shirt off, it won't be my lips I'll need you to kiss.'

'Okay, okay,' Larry sighed, laughing, awkwardly, his hands beckoning her not to touch the buttons. 'I'll kiss you,' he said as nonchalantly as possible. Constance glared at him, her lips tight with anger. All he could do was shrug, his eyes asking for an alternative option. Moira smirked, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Larry's neck. 'Just a peck,' he joked before she pulled him to her, open-mouthed. She pulsated her tongue inside him, grating teeth and pulling hair, moaning like a fountain into his mouth. She opened her eyes, looking directly at Constance's raging anger, whilst she suckled on her man. Constance burned inside, turning scarlet with fury. Larry's hands gripped Moira's waist firmly, and she covered one with her own, only to drag it up to a breast. Larry pulled away, nervously muttering. The maid just clung to his mouth with hers and slowly placed a hand over the stiffness in his pants.

'That's enough,' Constance boomed, sitting upright and dotting out her cigarette. She ran her fingers through her hair.

'Oh, but he's so hard,' Moira whispered, into Larry's breathless mouth. 'I wonder, have you ever made him so hard, Constance?' she gloated, turning to face Constance and leaving Larry's lips unaccompanied. She wiped the lipstick from the corner of her mouth and sauntered out of the room.


	5. Magpie Stashes and Stewing Ghosts

Magpie Stashes and Stewing Ghosts

'Adding those to your magpie stash?' Moira judged as she polished a silver knife.

'Until I have a full set. Then it's off to eBay, where I'll make a pretty penny, and you'll be accused of theft,' the blonde smiled, taking the cutlery from the maid and adding it to the collection in her grips. 'That was our plan, wasn't it?'

'I don't remember you ever sticking to any of your plans.'

'Well, when life gets in the way, what can you do? Not that you'd know much about that, of course.' Constance turned, heading for the door.

'I hate that you're so bitter,' Moira grunted, swallowing the lump in her throat before the blonde would hear it.

'Oh, honey, I have to be,' Constance whispered, bringing a hand to chest as she faced the redhead. 'I have to protect myself. Every time I have let my guard down around you, you have clawed at me.'

'With just,' she snapped.

'Perhaps so. But it doesn't mean I didn't feel it.' The pair shared an intense stare as Constance slowly slithered to Moira's side. 'I know you're trying to torture me, Moira. I see those little cogs turning, plotting. But there's only so much you can do to me before your conscience tells you to stop. A whore, you may be, but you're not a monster.' She pointed threateningly with the silverware towards Moira's face. 'You know what went on back then; you know I had no choice. You don't really blame me-'

'-Oh, but I do, Constance. Because my word means something, and I made the mistake of thinking yours did too,' she hissed, ignoring the tears that ringed her eyes.

'Well, as you say, that's your mistake,' Constance shrugged, lowering her weapons. 'We all have our own to carry around. Mine was thinking that leaving a ghost to stew for 17 years would make her desperate. Clearly it just turns her into a pathetic, old martyr,' she scoffed.

'How can I not be furious with you? You're the one who put me here.'

'That's not why you're furious, Moira. You're pissed because I can still leave. And one day, I might never come back.' Her face was solemn as she turned slowly and sighed, leaving the room and ignoring the quiet whimpers of the maid as she went.


	6. But I Killed You

But I Killed You

 **1993**

'He's falling for you,' Moira chimed as she sat, bent over a set of silver cutlery with a duster.

'Well, of course he is,' Constance replied, mundanely, puffing on a cigarette and turning a page of her newspaper. 'That's the point,' she whispered, flashing a menacing smile up to the maid who sat on the other side of the room.

'You shouldn't do that to him.' She breathed on a spoon.

'And why the hell not? If you want something in this world you've gotta go out and get it. Well I'm getting it.'

'It's not right.'

'Why? Because you should only destroy a marriage for love?' Constance looked over the top of her newspaper, raising a sarcastic eyebrow towards the redhead.

'No,' she said shyly, replacing the last spoon before shutting the case of the box and placing it on the table in front of her. She stood and walked slowly over to the oblivious blonde who tutted under her breath when she realised the help was sitting at her feet. Constance kicked them at her, screwing up her face. 'You should be with me,' the young maid whispered soulfully. She took Constance's nylon covered foot and rubbed it softly, soothingly. Constance huffed and folded up the paper, throwing it onto the floor.

'What? What the hell are you doing?' she asked, aghast, looking at her foot.

'Telling you some truths,' the redheaded beauty crooned, her eyes of fire glaring deep into Constance's soul. 'I watch you, day in, day out, plaster that fake smile across your face and shiver when he touches you. All for what? I can give you everything you need, Constance Langdon. I know you.' Her voice trilled, stirringly to Constance's ears with the strength and power of a prayer.

'What in god's name are you talking about?' Constance exclaimed. 'Get your hands off me, you hussy.' She stood, batting the maid from her feet. 'What, are you bored of seducing my lover _and_ my husband, now you're going after me? Sorry, missy, I don't bat that way,' she affirmed, sharply, running her hands through her tousled hair, still wide-eyed at the woman at her feet. Moira's deep eyes kept penetrating through her, unashamed and powerful.

'I think you'll give me a chance. You'd be amazed at what I could do for you. Men don't know how to love a woman's body; not the way a woman does.' Her voice ran like silk through the air and Constance's face blushed. 'Just give in to it,' she whispered, rising to her feet, begging with her eyes. 'Give in to me, let me show you.' She ran her hands along Constance's stomach, grazing up across her breasts, eliciting a shocking exhale from the blonde's still-open mouth. When they reached her neck, the young redhead wrapped them gently, tenderly, hanging over each shoulder, as she started to sway. Constance could do nothing but look, confused and deeply worried, into her peaceful, passionate eyes. Her mouth still hung open a little, as her feet began exchanging weight, moving to Moira's quiet dance. 'Do you feel it?' She whispered to the older woman's questioning lips. 'Do you feel it here? Burning?' She grazed her hand over Constance's abdomen igniting the passion that curled inside her. 'Listen to it,' she teased. 'Trust it.'

'I don't trust you,' Constance barely managed through hilted breaths.

'You will,' the redhead mused, brushing her plump lips against the blonde's. For a reason she couldn't explain, other than sheer and sudden desire, Constance kissed the maid back, achingly for several minutes. Each time their tongues crashed together, she lost a little more of herself to the voice in the back of her head screaming at her to do whatever needed to be done. Her arms wrapped tightly around the Moira's face, neck, waist, groping and inching their way closer to the warmth of her skin. It began with buttons being torn from her blouse, exposing her young, firm stomach and breasts, and ended with Constance's bare waist being caressed, breathlessly, insatiably, by Moira's open, desperate mouth as it made its way towards her groin.

'I want it,' Constance moaned, laying back on the sofa, her legs parting to welcome the fevered kisses she was sending down with a fistful of red hair. 'Christ, Moira,' she whined, shifting in her torment. 'I need it, come on.' She bucked her hips up towards the maid's lips, desperate for some connection. The ball of fire that burned in her stomach melted her insides, and she started to leak. Moira glanced up, smiling devilishly at the woman writhing underneath her.

'Am I better than him?' she asked, knowingly. Constance grabbed a bare breast, squeezing herself in an attempt to quell some of the desire but it only added to her frustration.

'Yes,' she huffed, impatiently. 'Touch me,' she whined, excitement gathering in her throat. Moira licked a finger and gently stroked the blonde's pulsating pussy. Every touch like the strike of a match against Constance's walls. She threw her head back, groaning throatily as the maid kissed her wetness, and slipped her fingers inside. Constance tightened, a sharp inhale of breath overpowering her, before grinding down against her redheaded lover. 'Oh god,' she sobbed through gritted teeth, squeezing her breast harder and harder with every flick of the trained tongue against her flesh. 'What… are you doing… to me,' she panted, running her free hand up to her head, gripping her champagne hair in sheer delight. The redhead moaned into her mound, slapping wet kiss rapidly but consciously onto her aching, burning skin. 'Fast- faster,' she cried, pressing against the fingers that squirmed inside her. 'Yes, faster- oh,' she rocked herself, losing more and more breath with every dive the maid's fingers took. The hot coil that twisted in her stomach, begging to be released, finally unravelled, with a guttural cry from Constance's lips. 'Jesus H Christ,' she panted, squirming slightly as the ghostly-eyed maid pulled her soaking fingers from her. Constance licked her lips, trying to moisten her breathless mouth. 'What the hell was that about?' she questioned, throwing her head back onto the sofa cushion, collapsing in confused relief.

'I was showing you how much you wanted me,' Moira responded, finding her apron on the floor and wiping her fingers on it.

'B-but I killed you,' Constance reasoned, brow still furrowed in confusion as she watched the maid dress. Moira shrugged.

'I'm over it,' she sighed, modestly wiping the corners of her mouth. 'If you'll excuse me, it's time I cleaned the bathrooms.' She tied her soiled apron around her waist and fixed her hair as she turned and exited the room, leaving Constance alone with muddled thoughts.


	7. Truth-Tellers

Truth-Tellers

'Did you hear?' Constance sniffed, stumbling through the kitchen door, sipping dark liquor from a glass she'd brought with her.

'Hmm. Did she make it to the house?' Moira asked, setting down the dishcloth and offering a chair. Constance shook her head, regretfully, looking down at the floor as she stumbled into her seat. 'How many's that now?' The blonde looked up, dolefully, with swollen eyes and glared at the redhead.

'Four,' she drawled, taking another sip. Moira sat beside her.

'Well thanks to you, I'll never know the pain you're going through.'

'Moira, just once, just this one goddamn time, could you not make this about the fact that I killed you. Just once?' Moira smiled, modestly, accepting and Constance sighed, bringing the glass to her mouth.

'What're you doing here?'

'What do you mean 'what am I doing here'? My child has just died, splayed out in the middle of the street. You want me to go back to an empty house, listen to all the creaks and silences that scream at me how I'm going to die alone?' Constance cried, the alcohol running through her making sure she felt no shame. Moira put a hand on her shoulder.

'If you want me to comfort you, you've come to the wrong person,' she said honestly but not unkindly.

'I don't want comfort, I want company.'

'Isn't that what your boy toy's for?' Constance coughed a laugh from her throat, rolling her eyes.

'Yeah, I'm sure Ben Ten will be great company for a grieving mother.' She waved her hand dismissively, staring into the contents of her glass, as though it held all the answers. 'He's not going to stay.'

'How do you know?'

Constance sighed. 'I think half the reason he stayed with me anyway was to be around Addie. Now I'm just a childless old widow, with a drinking problem and no money. Where's the attraction?' She played with the blonde locks that dangled round her neck.

'Well there is none,' the maid said plainly. 'But to be honest, I was wondering what he was doing with you in the first place. I've always wondered how you've ended up with the men that you did. But then I remember, you're a first class bitch. _That's_ where the lack of attraction is, Constance. Not in your inability to sustain children.' Constance met the redhead's eyes, smirking, drunkenly and bleary-eyed.

'You're not going to give me a pass? Even tonight?' Moira smiled, taking the glass from Constance's grip and having a mouthful before squinting as it burnt her chest.

'When did you ever give me one?' she coughed. Constance shrugged agreeably, taking back the glass. 'We're truth-tellers, Constance. Except, of course, when we're lying.' Constance wiped her eyes and nodded, quietly to herself as the maid stood, putting a gentle hand on the blonde's shoulder as she left the room.


	8. Not Above Murder

Not Above Murder

 **1994**

'What did they say?' Larry asked, tentatively as he curled around the solemn blonde.

'They're going to charge me with Criminal Child Neglect. They're going to take him away. Place him in an institution. My boy. My Beauregard,' she inhaled deeply, glaring into the fire. 'Now, you know how he is-'

'-I know.'

'How he suffers so when he's not with me. If you have any feelings for me at all.'

'You know I love you,' Larry says, taking her hand in his. 'I would do anything for you.'

'Then do it.' The words fell, easily from her lips. 'Like we discussed,' she whispered slowly, her eyes filling with tears.

Moira wrapped a warm hand over Constance's quaking shoulder, trying to comfort her sobs. The two sat in silence, holding one another. 'You're a strong woman,' Moira finally muttered into the blonde's ear, nuzzling her wet cheek with her nose. Constance groaned, pulling her head away from the maid's touch.

'I'm a disgrace. My poor Beauregard… my little boy,' she whined into the fire she hadn't moved from. 'How can you look at me?' she sobbed. The maid laced her fingers in between Constance's cold ones and squeezed, reassuringly.

'You're a desperate mother. I won't pretend like I understand but I don't judge you. I have no place to.' Constance sighed resting her head on Moira's chest.

'I'm doing the right thing. He's suffered his whole life. He wouldn't understand if they took him away. He'd be dead anyway.'

'I know, I know,' the maid soothed. 'Shh, it's okay. He's gonna be okay.' The two quietly

stared into the hypnotic flames for minutes that past like hours.

'We have to stop,' Constance finally whispered, the words thick, heavy like molasses as she tried her best not to choke on them. 'We can't keep doing this, Moira.' She felt the woman's arm jolt around her. 'My baby's going to be trapped here, forever. I can't risk Larry knowing about us, I can't risk him banning me from my child's tomb.' Her eyes became glassy with tears again. They danced in the orange of the fire. Moira breathed, wide-eyed and panicked. She bit down on her lip, not allowing herself to cry. 'I'm sorry,' Constance gasped eventually, squeezing the hand that remained draped around her shoulder.

'This is stupid,' Moira whispered, like a lullaby, into her ear, blinking away her tears. She inhaled the curls of blonde hair, swallowing them down, allowing the scent to live in her. 'I love you, you know I do. We can't throw this away. We- we can't not have each other, Constance.'

'You're not a mother, Moira, you don't understand. I need to be here with him; he's fragile.' She finally looked up at the maid's pained face, tears running freely down her cheeks.

'What if there was something we could do,' Moira questioned, her eyes distant, caught in schemes she hadn't quite perfected yet.

'Like what? I've racked my brain and come up empty. What are you thinking?' Constance asked, wiping her cheek and turning to her lover.

'We could kill him,' Moira suggested, nonchalantly. Constance scoffed before realising the seriousness on the maid's stoic face.

'You want to murder Larry?' she hissed.

'What? Don't act like you're above murder,' Moira chided, rolling her eyes.

'What's he done to deserve that?'

'Well, what did I ever do?' Moira questioned, offended.

'You were a tramp! I'm not killing Larry. He's boring as all hell, but he doesn't deserve to be killed,' Constance said firmly, unaware of the hurt that flitted across Moira's face or the irony of the errand she'd just send Larry on. She sighed.

'Just hear me out. You stay here, get Larry to marry you. He'll put the house in your name. We kill him, you get rid of the body, off the premises, of course. You get to keep the house, stay here with Beau and we can be together. Forever, if you want. It's a good plan, Constance,' Moira cajoled, running her fingers through blonde tresses.

'Apart from the part where I get arrested for murder and spend the rest of my life in prison. Come on, that's not going to work, honey.' Moira took hold of Constance's reddened face, looking into her eyes.

'You love me, Constance. I make you happy, I know I do. Trust me, we can do this. We can do what needs to be done to ensure nothing can come between us.' Constance narrowed her eyes, uncertain as to even entertain the idea. She felt the strength of Moira's conviction but lost herself in thoughts of Beau. She licked her lips.

'I don't know. This is insane,' she squirmed, freeing herself of Moira's loving grip. The redhead sighed, wrapping her arms back around her lover.

'I'm not letting you throw us away, Constance. I need you. I can't survive this hell without you.' She kissed her lightly on the head before standing, walking away from the flames.


	9. You Did

You Did 

'What do you want?' Moira huffed at Constance's entrance and then continued to scrub away at the kitchen worktop.

'I need to speak to my son. I believe he had a session with Doctor Harmon today.'

'It ended. But I'm sure the little psycho is still skulking around here somewhere.' Constance curled her lip before pointing at the worktop behind Moira.

'You missed a spot,' she said calmly.

'So did you,' Moira said, squinting at Constance's face. 'You've been crying.' She paused, watching Constance squirm. 'Good,' she smiled, cruelly. Constance rolled her eyes.

'When did you become such a mean, old bitch?'

'I've been dead a long time,' Moira shrugged. 'I guess I don't have much pity left in me, for the dirty traitors among the living.' She turned back to the worktop and picked up her cloth.

'Traitor,' Constance scoffed. 'Coming from the hussy whose pastime was riding other people's husbands, please.' She laughed, waving her hand dismissively, before turning to leave the kitchen.

'There are only so many times you can throw that in my face,' Moira shouted down the hall to her. Constance turned on her heels, eyes gleaming.

'Oh, we'll see. You probably don't know this, having never actually married any of the men you climbed on top of, but betrayed wives don't usually forgive the whores who seduced their husbands,' she snapped.

'No, but you did,' Moira replied, spraying another worktop with disinfectant. 'So you can stop pretending you're angry about it. You're not fooling anyone.' Constance stared at the maid who faced her.

'Get scrubbing,' she muttered, glancing at the worktop, before turning away to disappear into the hall.


	10. Undead STDs

Undead STDs

 **1994**

'I heard you last night; grunting and moaning,' Moira handed Constance a mug of coffee with a look of disgust smudged across her face. Constance glanced up from the newspaper.

'Hmm?'

'It was foul. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?' Moira sunk into a chair wringing her hands in her apron, hanging her head.

'I didn't w _ant_ to do it, for Christ's sake. It's part of the plan, you know that.' She returned to the newspaper, sipping her coffee.

'The plan,' Moira scoffed. 'What plan? It's going nowhere. For six months I've had to listen to you perfect every minute detail of this supposed plan, but you're not actually doing anything to initiate it,' the redhead heaved.

'The first step of the plan is getting him to propose, you stupid woman. How am I supposed to do that if I don't sleep with him?' Constance berated, scrunching up the newspaper in her fist.

'I hope you're wearing protection,' the maid snapped.

'To protect you from all those undead STDs that're going around?' Constance snorted. 'If anything I'm diseasing Larry with all the filth you picked up before I shot you in the head. Forget our plan of murdering him; we'll both be dead in no time thanks to your polluted cootch,' she mumbled at the newspaper, taking another sip of her coffee.

'You could at least act like you care,' Moira sighed, as she started folding piles of laundry.

'Care about what, exactly?'

'About us, about what we're doing this for. You don't even seem interested anymore.'

'Christ, are you crying about this again? What do you want me to do, Moira? Huh? I can't help that you're jealous,' Constance shouted, pointing a finger as she stood. 'This was your plan; you knew I was going to have to sleep with him. We discussed it at length and you swore you wouldn't do this. For Christ's sake, how is a ghost so goddamn clingy?' She turned to leave the room, her coffee shaking slightly in her hand. Moira cried gently into the clean laundry.


	11. What Men Can't Refuse

What Men Can't Refuse

'There's not going to be any swimming pool, you stupid slut,' Constance's quaking voice hissed out at Moira's stoic expression, as she turned to face the blonde. 'There won't even be a house. He plans to tear the whole thing down. And put up affordable housing.' The words tumbled from her lips, drenched in despair. She took a breath. 'He's gonna seal your tomb for good.'

'I don't believe you,' Moira shunned.

'Well, it's true. He told me so himself. And while I would normally rejoice at the thought of you spending eternity scrubbing out low flow toilets in government subsidised housing, there's every chance, that when these walls come down, I am going to lose my family forever. And I won't have that.' Constance glared her defiance momentarily and then slinked around the kitchen island heading for the door.

'He lied to me,' Moira muttered, hurt spreading across her ghostly eyes.

'Well of course he lied to you.'

'Why do they always lie?' The redhead's lip quivered slightly, holding back her tears.

'It's in their nature; they can't help it,' Constance soothed, taking a step towards the maid, and putting a hand on her shoulder. 'But we can help each other,' she whispered, her eyes glimmering with hope.

'What do you want me to do?'

'What you do best, darling. What you've always done.' Her voice was deep and controlled, but her dark eyes briefly glance down at Moira's lips. She wiped the maid's tears away tenderly. 'You have a great gift, Moira. You're what men can't refuse.' Constance's hand lingered, slowly tracing the outside of her lips with her thumb. The maid looked back at her, both eyes glassy with tears, but only one with any emotion in it.

'Is that what you're calling it now? A gift?' she huffed.

'It _is_ a gift,' Constance exhaled, conviction in her eyes. 'I've spent my life battling against everyone and everything in the hopes of having some control over them. All you have to do is bend over in that trashy little outfit of yours and men are clamouring over themselves trying to serve you.' Moira noticed the distant jealously that coated her words.

'And so I open my legs and let them help themselves. And then they're gone,' she whispered solemnly. Constance let out a sarcastic, throaty laugh.

'Well, that's just men, Moira,' she shrugged, finally taking her hand back and using it to fix her hair.

'No it isn't,' Moira glared up at her, anger replacing her sadness. Constance tried to hide her surprise, her lips pursed together, tightly.

'So we're back here,' Constance drawled, loudly, slapping her arms against her thighs as they dropped, frustratedly.

'You told me you loved me, Constance,' the maid hissed, her words embedded in pain. 'You swore it.'

'I did love you,' the blonde screamed, slamming her fist on the kitchen island. 'I did, but you knew the plan. Jesus Christ, we went over it enough. You knew how it was going to go down, how it _needed_ to go down.' She calmed her voice, briskly wiping a tear from under her eye and collecting herself. Constance looked back at the redhead, whose countenance had retired to placid maid once again. She shrugged off Constance's words and turned to finish washing the dishes. Constance sighed, stepping quietly towards her, resting a hand on the maid's shapely hip, sending a wave of ice through her body. 'I didn't use you, little girl,' she growled into Moira's ear, sending a chill through the ghost. Constance kissed the back of Moira's head, lingering only for a second, with closed eyes and a quiet squeeze of the flesh between her fingers. She felt Moira exhale, silently and then continue with the dishes. Constance dropped her hand, turned, and left the house without another word.


	12. Big, Ugly, Blood-Sucking Bug

Big, Ugly Blood-Sucking Bug

 **1994**

'I don't understand why you're still moping,' Moira asked breezily as she polished around the piles of empty bottles and overflowing ashtrays.

'Really? You don't get that?' Constance mumbled into a pillow. Moira sighed.

'At least let me throw this mess out, Constance. You're making your death bed,' Moira reasoned, her hand on her hip, looking over the half-eaten plates of hardened food.

'Leave it,' the blonde groaned, sternly.

'You're going to encourage bugs,' the maid continued, opening the curtains, eliciting a wail from the lump under the blanket.

'You're a bug. A big, ugly, blood-sucking bug. Get out, Moira, leave me alone.'

'God, you're pathetic,' the maid hissed at her. Constance threw back the blanket, glaring at the redhead.

'I'm pathetic? How am I supposed to cope with this? A mother isn't supposed to endure this much agony, this much torment in one lifetime. My son is a murderer,' she breathed, glaring with realisation fresh and hot in her eyes.

' _You're_ a murderer!' Moira reminded her.

'No, no he's a mass murderer. And he's dead. My angel is gone. And my heart is shattered. It is torn. Irrevocably, permanently unfixable. I am broken. I don't even know how I begin to process

this. And you're worrying about bugs, for Christ's sake?'

'I'll tell you how you begin to cope with this; you have a daughter who needs you more than any other child will need their parent. And I'm here, waiting for you to get yourself out of this funk. You can wail about Tate until you're blue in the face, but the facts are, he's not really gone, Constance. He's in the next room. You're heart-broken because you have to live with what you raised. You're ashamed; and I would be too if I were you. Look at the state of you. How can you look after Adelaide in this shape?' Moira knocked an empty whiskey bottle to the floor and watched as Constance started under her blanket.

'How can you dare to be so mean to me right now?' she slumped.

'Because I love you and you need to hear this. This can't go on, Constance. I will not be your babysitter.' She sighed, sitting next to her lover as she lit up a cigarette and coughed. 'This is our chance to be happy. I know what you're going through is unimaginable, but we've been handed an opportunity. And after waiting 2 years to finally be with you, really be with you, as we wanted all along, you're throwing this away. I can't help but feel overlooked.' She put her hand over Constance's, trying to reconnect to find her lover inside this dilapidated shell she was stuck with.

'Moira,' she sighed. 'My dead son set fire to the man we were plotting to kill. He also managed to murder 15 innocent kids, before being assassinated in his bedroom. I- I don't know exactly what opportunity we've been given here,' she said calmly, controlling her breath. 'I'm sorry that you had a plan that never came to fruition. But I will never forgive you for not being here with me right now.' Constance's eyes pricked with tears as she pulled her hand away and grabbed the nearest bottle of whiskey. She took a lasting mouthful, breathing as it burnt a trail down her chest into her stomach. 'I need someone to help me grieve. Not someone who's going to try to take that from me.' Moira nodded softly to herself, biting her lip, accepting her failed efforts.

'And Addie?' she questioned, hoping to ignite the mothering instinct she seemed to have lost with Tate.

'Addie's a big girl,' Constance mumbled, laying herself back down on the sofa.

'I'm glad someone is,' Moira muttered, standing and turning to leave.

'Close the drapes on your way out.'


	13. Cheap Satisfaction

Cheap Satisfaction

'After all these years, Moira, I have finally come to appreciate your talent,' Constance quipped, glancing up at the sunken, bloodied face of the maid. 'Is he dead yet?'

'Not quite yet,' Larry panted as he struggled against the suffocating man.

'Well make sure he's off the property before he expires. I wouldn't care to encounter his carcass ever again.' Moira modestly wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, watching as the burned man struggled to drag the still breathing body out through the back of the basement door. 'You're not going to help?' Moira scoffed at the woman, leant casually against a doorframe, arms folded.

'I'm not touching that thing. If your conscience has different ideas, you go and help him.'

'I did my part,' Moira utters, shamefully, wiping her mouth again.

'Oh yes, and we all know what a task it must've been for you,' Constance rolled her eyes, lighting up a cigarette.

'I don't enjoy it, you know.'

'Oh, I'm sure,' the blonde sneered, blowing out a cloud of smoke through pursed lips. Moira sighed in frustration before storming over to Constance and knocking the cigarette from between her fingers. She looked back at the maid, startled.

'I'm not a whore, d'ya hear? I'm sick and tired of your constant, tiresome name-calling,' she exclaimed, angry tears pooling in her eyes. Constance remained shocked, eyes wide, until she brought a hand up to her mouth, obscuring her laughter.

'Oh, please,' she giggled, throatily, angering the redhead further. 'You seduce every goddamn man you meet.'

'That isn't true,' Moira screamed back at her.

'You desire that cheap satisfaction you must get from being degraded.'

'Stop it.'

'You can't help it, you seduced me, for Christ's sake!' Constance yelled, betrayal swimming in her wide eyes.

'I _loved_ you,' Moira spat back at her, shaking with rage.

'Sure, hell, call it whatever you want,' Constance waved, dismissively. 'But I bet you still felt the same glow of humiliation and sickening perversion over your skin when it was all over. Because that's all you ever really cared about,' she whispered, nastily. Moira narrowed her eyes, pierced by Constance's cruelness, before swiping an open palm straight across her face. Constance groaned, open mouthed, as she brought her hand to the stinging cheek. Moira let out a single whimper as she stared with fury at the aghast blonde.

'I _loved_ you,' she whispered again, almost silently into the darkness. Constance let out a short, sharp sigh, her hand still holding her face, before Moira wiped the tear that fell from her ghostly eye and lunged towards Constance's open mouth, sinking into its heat. Constance wrapped her lips around the familiar taste, around the tongue that gently tickled the walls of her mouth, breathing heavily. Moira's hands cradled around the blonde's neck pulling her in further. Constance moaned quietly, involuntarily before suddenly pulling away, pushing Moira back, breathing deeply.

'Get that cock-sucking mouth away from me,' she sneered, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Moira panted, aghast, tears still staining her cheeks, as Constance slid off into the shadows and towards her escape.


	14. Hope and Faith

Hope and Faith

 **1995**

'Adelaide, hurry your sweet heinie along, child. I'm not waiting forever,' Constance cooed up the stairs to her daughter.

'I can't fit everything in here,' she sighed, holding up the rucksack her mother had given her.

'It's just for tonight Addie. We're moving next door, not Jupiter, for Christ's sake. We can come back tomorrow. Now go on up and pack some things. Don't forget your toothbrush.' She ushered her along and sighed, fixing her hair as she trailed down the stairs. She sauntered down throughout the house, gracing her hand over the boxes of belongings that were labelled and packed ready to be moved to the next house along. She made her way to the stairs of the basement and poked her head through the door. 'Tate? Tate, honey, are you down here?' She took a few steps, squinting as her eyes got used to the darkness. 'Tate, it's important, baby. Come out.'

'I'm here,' Tate replied, as he stepped into the light of the open door. Constance put a hand to her chest, momentarily alarmed.

'Oh, honey. Why're you always down here, hiding in the dark? Huh?' She reached her arms out to her son, who remained statuesque and motionless, aside from his eyes that rolled at his mother's touch. 'I've come to say goodbye, Tate. Addie and I are moving next door, like I told you.' She pressed her son's head to her bosom, running her fingers through his hair. 'But I don't want you to ever feel alone, okay? I'm going to come and visit you all the time. And Addie will be here. You know that girl, she'll do as she wants, there's no stopping her.' Constance laughed an unsure, throaty laugh to cover the lump in her throat. 'I need you to look after your brother. You know how he gets when he isn't around familiar faces. Hmm?' Constance pulled the blonde head from her chest and looked into his dark eyes. 'Are you listening, honey?' He pulled his head away, sharply.

'Yes, I'm listening. Just go if you're going.' Constance's lips tightened as she swallowed again, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. She smiled warmly.

'Okay, sunshine. I'm going.' She stroked his cheek with her thumb and kissed his forehead tenderly. 'Goodbye, my angel. I love you so much,' she whispered. She smiled again, choking on her tears, but refusing to let him see her cry when he clearly cared so little. She turned to ascend the staircase and quickly glanced behind her for one more look. But her baby boy was gone. She sighed, clinging her hands to her chest as she reached the hallway and closed the door behind her.

'You're really going, huh?' Moira asked as she polished the wooden handrail.

'I told you I was.'

'I know but you get these ideas in your head and then abandon them, willy-nilly.' Moira glanced at her knowingly, shrugging.

'The eviction notice and letters of non-payment aren't ideas in my head, and they're not just going to go away willy-nilly. Larry's medical bills have cleared me out. _And_ the pot we were planning to rob from under his dead nose,' Constance laughed uncomfortably under Moira's stern glare.

'We could have worked something out. There would have been another plan, somewhere. It just wasn't hidden under a whiskey bottle, which is the only place you were looking for it,' the maid sneered and then sniffed, refusing to cry.

'Well,' Constance nodded. 'When you're right, you're right. I drank too much. Sue me. I didn't mean for things to go the way they did, Moira. Life just has a way of bringing out the worst in you. If you couldn't handle my worst than maybe… maybe it was never meant to be,' the blonde questioned, sighing and clasping her hands together. Moira scoffed, concentrating intently on her polishing. 'You're just going to ignore me?'

'You're abandoning me,' Moira blurted out, with a whimper. 'You put me here, made me fall in love with you and are now leaving me here forever, alone. I apologise if I'm not in the mood for your meagre excuses. 'If you couldn't handle me at my worst'? Christ's sake, Constance, what the hell is that?' Moira shouted, exacerbated and hurt. Constance furrowed her brow. 'I deserve more than that. I deserve more than you sneaking out without you even saying goodbye,' she sobbed.

'I know,' Constance whispered, hanging her head as she made her way up to the third step to meet the maid's eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she muttered, taking hold of Moira's wrists and turning her to face her. 'I'm sorry,' she reiterated, sternly. Moira caught a breath in her chest as she bit on her lip.

'You gave me hope, Constance. That, that was such a mean thing to do.'

'Because I _had_ hope,' she whispered, reaching up to touch Moira's lips against her own. Addie came bounding down behind them and they parted, shyly. Moira sniffed and closed her eyes as Constance held her close. 'I just didn't have any faith,' she whispered, before letting the maid loose and descending to Adelaide, who waited near the door for her mother. 'Take care of my boys,' Constance called back casually, wiping her eye before putting on her sunglasses. 'Let's go, baby,' she urged, taking Addie's hand and closing the door behind them. Moira dropped the duster on the stairs and sunk, silently sobbing into the hands that still smelt just like her. Constance.


	15. Ram-Raid

Ram-Raid

'They're a handful, god knows, but I wouldn't change a thing about any of my angels,' Constance sang to Vivien as Moira entered the kitchen. Vivien smiled, rubbing her swollen stomach.

'Really? Not even the pretty blonde one?' Moira whispered as she put a plate in the sink. Constance curled her lip and turned her head back to Vivien.

'Do you have any names yet? I'm not pushy but I've always thought Constance was a most beautiful name.' The pair giggled politely to one another as the maid looked on, unamused.

'No, you know, I don't think we're having girls.'

'Huh, really?'

'Yeah, I can't explain it. It just feels like baby boys.'

'Well, I'm sure they'll be perfect whatever they are. Now you go grab that nap I was telling you about, while you've got five minutes. Go on, get yourself laid down.' Constance took Vivien by the arm and pulled her to the door. 'How about I send Moira up in an hour with a snack and a cup of tea?' she smiled.

'Oh, that would be lovely. Would you mind, Moira?'

'Not at all, Madam. Go, rest.' Constance nodded, smiling, ushering her out of the room. The pair stood silently in the kitchen waiting for the creak of the staircase before turning to one another and sighing. 'What the hell are you doing back here? Don't you have a home of your own to go to?' Constance laughed abruptly and fixed her hair as she retook her seat at the kitchen island.

'My family's here, Moira. You know that. You know how deeply I care for my family.'

'Yep, I know. You'll just ram-raid anyone who hasn't got your DNA running through them,' Moira said, coldly, turning her attention to the dishes.

'I'm here to make a truce,' Constance said, unexpectedly.

'Pardon?' Moira muttered.

'I thought about the way I reacted the other day, in the basement. I was cruel, I know. I want to apologise to you, Moira. I want us to be able to get along. Don't you want that?'

'I've noticed that your version of 'getting along' is when people do as you want them to. It has very little give and far too much take on your end.'

'I know I can be a little self-oriented when it comes to the things and people that I care about. Some see it as a flaw, I myself see it as my greatest strength, but-'

'-Isn't this supposed to be an apology?' Moira chided, drying her hands on her apron. Constance strained a smile.

'I'm getting to it,' she breathed, holding her patience. 'Moira, I apologise for my reaction to your advances. I-I have no excuse, but I still find myself so angry with you, I sometimes act cruelly. I'm sorry. Can you accept my apology?' she asked sweetly, vulnerably. Moira sighed and rested her hands on the sink, shaking her head.

'It's no good, Constance. We've done too much to one another, too much has happened.' She turned to face the blonde in time to see her face fall slightly, hurt dancing beneath her eyes. 'I appreciate your attempts-'

'-No, it's fine. I get it. Just trying to clear the air, but I guess you've had a lot of time to think things over. Things get under your skin; it's not something you can help.' Constance stood from the island, looking around her for belongings she didn't bring, blinking rapidly.

'Constance-'

'-No, I don't want your pity, Moira. I get it, really,' she smiled her glassy eyes as she fixed her hair. 'It's done. I mean, I knew that anyway. A 17 year radio silence and I'm still confused about where we each stood,' she laughed at herself, padding her hands against flushed cheeks. 'I'm going, I'm going,' she whispered, stepping towards the door.

'I can't do the half and half thing, Constance. You know that; I drove you crazy, remember?' Moira reasoned, tilting her head sympathetically.

'Don't do that,' Constance held up a finger as she opened the door. 'Don't justify it, Moira. It doesn't need justifying. I'll see you around, okay?' she smiled, warmly, ignoring her wet eyes, and Moira thought that she'd never looked more beautiful.


	16. The Massacred Body Parts of Action Heroe

The Massacred Body Parts of Action Heroes

 **2015**

'Isn't he precious?' Moira cooed, watching with folded arms as 3 year old Michael smashed an _Action Man_ doll and a _Transformers_ toy together violently. Constance furrowed her brow, concernedly, before looking up at Moira, nodding and smiling faintly.

'I just adore him. He's such a character,' she gushed, ignoring the niggle in the back of her head.

'I can't thank you enough, Constance,' Vivien smiled, lovingly. 'You've done such a wonderful job. And it's so great that he can come and visit, any time he wants.' Constance nodded vaguely, peeling her eyes off the boy just long enough to smile at Vivien.

'Hey Michael, you wanna meet your baby brother?' Ben asked, crouching beside the boy with the forever new-born in his arms.

'No, no, I don't think he's very interested in babies,' Constance yelled, standing quickly from her chair to pull Ben away.

'Sure he is, aren't you little man?' Ben continued.

'No! No, he a little ham-fisted when it comes to delicates,' she laughed, apologetically. 'It's fine, he can meet him when he's older.'

'Constance, he's dead. What's the worst he could do?' Vivien joked, eliciting a worrying side glance from her husband. Constance remained concerned.

'I really, really think that we should all just stand back and let him annihilate this round of toys.'

'Are you afraid of him?' Moira laughed. Constance scoffed, rubbing her head.

'No, I'm not afraid of him. He's my child.' She glanced up at Vivien and then corrected, 'He's my blood. I just, I don't like to get him too overwhelmed and excited with things. He's a handful,' she smiled, relaxing as Ben stood up.

'He's starting to fuss, anyway. I'll go put him down for an hour,' he said, leaving the room with the bundle in his arms. Vivien smiled, wistfully at the little boy jumping forcefully on top of parts of an old torso.

'It's sad that I'll never see the baby grow up,' she said eventually. Constance took her hand.

'Oh no, you're so lucky. He'll stay innocent and happy forever. No pain, no heartache. Just his parent's love and care. Even dead, that baby's having a better life than most.' She smiled warmly at Vivien who nodded.

'You're right. I'm just blessed that I have him at all.'

'Exactly,' Constance nodded, quickly turning her eyes back to her 3 year old who was using a _Transformer_ 's leg to stab _Action Man_ repeatedly in the face. She winced, hoping no one else was watching. Vivien took hold of Constance's shoulders.

'Thank you for bringing him, Constance. Don't be a stranger, okay?'

'Of course not,' she smiled as Vivien walked away, waving goodbye to Michael, to no avail. Constance turned and rested her elbows on the table, putting her head in her hands.

'What is going on?' Moira asked, tipping Constance's tired face towards her.

'Three year olds are such hard work, Moira.' She rubbed her head again.

'You're worrying too much, honestly, kids are resilient. So I'm told.'

'There's no amount of worry that is too much for this child. He's,' Constance paused, deciding to hold her tongue. Then she suddenly realised the silence. 'He's quiet,' she exclaimed, turning around to see only the massacred body parts of action heroes strewn along the floor. 'Christ on a stick, where did he go?' She shot up and ran down the hall. Moira listened to her hurried footsteps as she came back through to the kitchen, amused and her bewilderment. 'Is he in here? Have you seen him?' She ran around the island frantically. 'Moira, don't just stand there, help me before he does something!'

'Jesus, Constance, he's a three year old boy, what could he possibly do?' she exclaimed.

'He killed the goddamn nanny.' A moment of silence swept over them before Moira darted to the back door.

'I'll look outside,' she shouted behind her. Constance ran down to the basement making sure the dead baby was still fine and dead. Michael hid in the living-room rolling a red ball to and from the shadows.


End file.
